


Stay Away

by DoYourResearch



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Family, Marriage, Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-07
Updated: 2014-01-07
Packaged: 2018-01-07 22:38:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1125228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DoYourResearch/pseuds/DoYourResearch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper always wanted Sherlock Holmes. She had him briefly and now ten years later is still living with the consequences as she tries to live her life in peace with her family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay Away

**Author's Note:**

> So, I decided I needed a break from my other story so I wrote this over the past two days. It was an idea I had been toying with for a while and I decided it was a good break from my other story. I hope you enjoy! :)

"Scarlett, honey, come meet your new brother."

 

The young child, nearly six years old with curious blue eyes, approached her mother cautiously. She took in the sweat coating her face, her hair messily plastered to her face and an exhausted but sincere smile glued in place as she held the bundle of pastel blue blankets. Her mother had auburn hair and her father had sandy blonde. She had a head full of thick black curls and as she stepped closer to her mother and got a closer look at the newborn she held protectively, she could see fair hair peaking out from beneath the cap.

 

"This is Thomas, just like daddy but we're going to call him Tommy."

 

Scarlett stood along side the bed now and wrinkled her nose in disgust, "He smells terrible."

 

A hand ruffled her unruly hair and she looked up to see her father smiling at her with his warm green eyes. He chuckled lightly and said, "That's because he's been inside your mummy for nine months. You smelled like that once, too, Scar."

 

The child had a look of pure horror on her face at the thought of smelling like that and her parents laughed at her discomfort. She frowned but it did nothing to stop their teasing. She did her best to ignore them and looked at her new sibling again. His puffy eyelids cracked open slightly and Scarlett exclaimed, "Mum, he has your eyes!"

 

"Told you he would, Molls," said Scarlett's father with a smug grin. Scarlett pouted and looked questioningly at her mother's deep and comforting brown eyes and then to her father's. Her parents noted her curious demeanor and her mother asked, "Scar, what's wrong? Aren't you happy to meet your new brother?"

 

With a moment of hesitation Scarlett replied, "He looks nothing like me."

 

Her father chuckled nervously and said, "All babies are different, Scarlett. If they weren't, we'd all be the same." He was met with an angry glare and the weight of the statement she made still hung heavily in the air. He looked hesitantly at his wife though her wedding band had been removed for the delivery and sat comfortably in his shirt pocket, close to his heart.

 

"Would you like to hold Tommy, Scarlett?"

 

The question quivered weakly in the air. The nervousness laced into the words was apparent to even the child and she shook her head. She looked up at her father and said, "I'm ready to go back to Aunt Jodie's."

 

Before anyone could respond, an older nurse in scrubs covered with graphics of dogs came in. She had a cheerful smile on her face as she pushed in a bassinet and announced that it was time for the baby to go back to the nursery. 

 

With a heavy heart and a soft kiss to the quiet newborn's knitted cap covered head, he was placed in the arms of the experienced nurse. She carefully cradled him and then gently placed him among the soft blankets and wrapped him up snugly so that only his red, round face was exposed. 

 

"Well, look at you!" The nurse exclaimed, looking down at Scarlett and then to her parents. She smiled and said, "What a beautiful girl!"

 

"What do you say, Scarlett?"

 

Scarlett stared at the women with her pale eyes intently before replying in a forced tone, "Thank you, ma'am."

 

The nurse smiled and looked at her mother, "With cheekbones like that, she's going to be a heartbreaker when she's older."

\--------------------

"I just got the call, Molly had a beautiful and healthy boy. They named him Thomas Maddison Jr!" Mary Watson exclaimed happily as she ran into the bedroom to hop on the bed her husband was refusing to get up from and start his day. He sleepily smiled toward his wife and reached out to pull on her hip and move her closer to him.

 

"S'great, Mary," John Watson mumbled and nuzzled his face into his wife's shoulder and said, "More sleep."

 

The tired man was expecting her to force him out of bed but he was pleasantly surprised when she settled into the bed with him and wrapped her limbs around his warm body. She pressed her soft lips to his wrinkled brow and nuzzled her nose against the short, grey and blonde hairs on his head that tickled the tip of it with fondness. 

 

"We'll be able to tell everyone our news soon," Mary whispered happily and she smiled as she felt her husband's strong hands run from her hip to her stomach, caressing the firm spot that remained covered by her cotton nightshirt. He slowly tilted his head up and found her lips with his own.

 

It was a short kiss as only moments later there was a pounding on the front door that echoed loudly through their modest two bedroom flat mixed with a cry of "Johnnnn".

 

"I hate that man, I swear," John groaned against Mary's lips. She smiled and kissed him again, never breaking the contact. She pushed him off slightly but allowed his hands to rub her stomach for a few seconds before urging him out of the bed.

 

The short doctor wore nothing but a pair of boxers and grabbed his dressing gown that Mary had gotten him for their second anniversary. It was made of thick and dark emerald silk and deep maroon trimmings. The intricate weave of the the fabric felt pleasant to the touch. He never realized he could enjoy a dressing gown so much.

 

John opened the door to find the source of the noise that would no doubt have his neighbor's complaining to him later as they always did. He gave the man before him an annoyed glare and said, "What is it, Sherlock? I have to go to work."

 

"In your dressing gown?" 

 

The tall and slender man breezed into the flat, nudging John out of the way. It was a familiar routine but it still made John roll his eyes and make an attempt to make his friend respect common courtesies such as waiting to be invited in.

 

"What is it, Sherlock? It's nine in the morning," John groaned as he went over to the kitchenette and poured himself a cup of the coffee left on the counter by his wife when she had been on the phone with Molly Hooper's, now Molly Maddison's, husband. It had been years since they had seen her as she had moved to the countryside shortly after Sherlock's faked suicide. She kept in touch with emails and phone calls but he had to admit he missed the kind woman's presence in the morgue when he periodically joined Sherlock for cases outside of his workload at the clinic down the street.

 

"Mrs. Hudson."

 

John froze and cautiously asked, "What about Mrs. Hudson?"

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, pacing the living room with too much energy for a man who hadn't slept or ate in nearly two days. He looked at the ceiling and exclaimed, "She threw out a bag of diseased kidneys I stole from the morgue. That woman needs to understand that I have important work to do!"

 

John released the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. He hated how dramatic Sherlock could be. He was worried for the well-being of his former landlady and didn't want to imagine the misery Sherlock had been causing her for the near six years he had been gone from the flat to live with his wife. He let out a chuckle after he relaxed and had several sips of coffee, "It's a shame Molly doesn't work at St. Bart's anymore or she could sneak you some more."

 

Sherlock's shoulders tensed for a moment and John started at him curiously over his cup of coffee but said nothing. It was over as fast it began and Sherlock relaxed as much as he usually did and exclaimed, "I'm bored, come out with me today!"

 

John rolled his eyes, "I have work, Sherlock, you know this." He glanced at his clock on the wall by the stove and frowned, "And I really have to get ready."

 

Mary came out of the bedroom in her pajamas and smiled happily at Sherlock, "Good morning, Sherlock!"

 

Sherlock glanced at her with only a slight upturn of the corners of his lips and said, "Twenty weeks as of yesterday. Things are progressing along nicely."

 

Mary smiled warmly and ran her hand on the bump of her stomach and said, "Very much so. Would you like tea?" The tall man nodded, always accepting of her offer as she made his tea as well as Mrs. Hudson and considerably better than John ever did.

 

Outside of their immediate families, no one besides Sherlock knew of Mary's pregnancy. The couple had decided to wait to tell people upon discovering of Molly's pregnancy as well as several others from work and their social circle who had been much further along. Molly was the last of their friend's and Mary wanted to wait until after the initial excitement of the new arrival had died down before making her announcement. John told her it was silly as Molly hadn't been in London for years but she had expressed it was a like an unwritten rule among women. Of course, Sherlock had known about Mary's pregnancy before she did and it was with a blunt comment made at dinner with John's sister that made Mary put down the wine John poured for and run to the pharmacy for a test the second Harry left.

 

"Did you hear, Sherlock," Mary began as John used her entrance as a means to escape to the bathroom and get ready for work. Sherlock hardly noticed. 

 

"Molly Hooper had her baby last night."

 

For the second time that morning Sherlock tensed but this time he did not relax as quickly and looked to the blonde women with a look of irritation, "Molly hardly has the credentials to be a parent. What could she possibly be thinking?"

 

Mary frowned, "Well, that's not very nice, Sherlock."

 

Sherlock frowned deeply. Mary was more often telling Sherlock when he was out of line than John was. He appreciated it as well as despised it. This time though, he offered no false niceties to make up for his comment.

 

"Anyways, it's her second. She already has a daughter from before her marriage."

 

Sherlock froze and Mary did as well upon seeing the intense look he gave her. She had his tea in hand and couldn't will herself to move as she looked at the consulting detective. She wondered for a moment if he was in his mind palace but knew better than to ask for if he was, he'd never answer her.

 

Mary was getting concerned with the long silence that went on even as John came back out, reach for work. He saw Sherlock's frozen expression and asked Mary quietly as he kissed her goodbye, "What's he on to?"

 

"I have no idea. I was telling him about Molly's kids and he froze," Mary replied with a shrug of her shoulders. They kissed several times but only briefly until she chuckled and pushed him toward the front door, "I'll stop in later with your lunch."

 

John smiled happily at her and left before he was late, not concerned about leaving her alone with Sherlock as she often put him in his place better than he ever did.

 

Mary had moved to sit at her small dining table with a cup of herbal tea and some biscuits. She watched Sherlock intently as stood as still as a statue. She slowly ate her biscuits, looking as amused as if she were watching an entertaining movie.

 

Finally, after nearly thirty minutes of his silence he blinked rapidly and began to move. He straightened his posture and cleared his throat uncomfortably and looked to Mary watching him with an amused look on her face.

 

"I had to move some things in my mind palace."

 

Mary simply nodded with a smirk and took a sip of her tea, "Her name's Scarlett and she's five."

 

Sherlock frowned and opened his mouth to speak but he couldn't find the appropriate words. He turned his head, thinking maybe the break of eye contact with the clever woman would allow him to think more properly.

 

"I'm not stupid, Sherlock."

 

Sherlock blushed. He could feel his cheeks burning and realized he was at a disadvantage. He turned his body toward the door and was gone before Mary could ask where he was off too.  
\----------------------------------

"Betty from my book club thinks we should take her to the child psychologist in town. I don't even know what to do," Molly spoke sadly as she rested her head against her husband's bare chest. She had cut her long hair a few days earlier and Tom found it awkward as he tried to run his hands through it like he used to. She had said that the breast feeding was drying her hair out and while it did appear her hair looked healthier now, he still preferred the flowing locks over the shoulder length ones.

 

Warm and chapped lips pressed against Molly's forehead. She was exhausted and at her wit's end. Tommy was barely sleeping through the night, Scarlett wouldn't speak to anyone in the family, and her husband was working more than ever to keep the family afloat as she hadn't worked since she discovered she was pregnant again.

 

Molly froze for a moment and then asked in panic, "You don't think she... knows. Do you?"

 

Tom stopped playing with Molly's hair and slid his hand to her shoulder and pulled her tightly against him. She looked into his sea foam green eyes and sighed. He frowned and said, "I don't think so. She's only five."

 

"But you don't know her father. He was brilliant. Is. Is brilliant. I always forget he is alive," Molly muttered. Tom's brow wrinkled with concern and a hint of anger, "He might as well be dead, Molly. He left you alone."

 

Molly pushed away from her husband's slightly soft chest. He had been so fit when they married but the domestic lifestyle coupled with their dependence on their car had made them both a bit soft. Sometimes, Molly missed walking in the cold London air as she went to work and back. Now here only exercise came from running across the house as Tommy's cries relayed in the baby monitor she had received as a gift from John and Mary Watson in the post.

 

"You know I can't tell you what happened but it wasn't entirely his fault."

 

They had had this fight numerous times, even before they had married. It was a topic they wished they could avoid but it was always there. Anytime someone mentioned Scarlett's dark curls and blue eyes that weren't present in either of them, it was a punch in the gut to Tom.

 

"I just wish you'd stop defending him. Where I come from, you at least make an offer to support your kid even if you don't want to be in their life," Tom said as he pushed himself up to sit his back against the cool backboard of the bed. Molly's face turned red and she found herself looking at his chest.

 

Tom noted the lack of eye contact and her sudden nervousness. He sighed and ran his hand through his messy blonde curls, "You never even told him."

 

Molly slowly lifted her eyes to meet her husband's now angry ones and said nothing. She had a million reasons for not telling him. She wanted to defend her daughter's father with her last breath but she knew she couldn't.

 

It was almost a saving grace as Tommy's cries echoed down the hallway, amplified by the baby monitor in their room. She quickly got out of bed and went to tend to her son, feeling Tom's eyes burning into her back. 

\--------------------------------

"I'll be going out of town for a few days. Here's a list of experiments I've been conducting in both 221B and at the lab at Bart's. I need you to check them all precisely at the times indicated or the results will be inaccurate. Several cases depend on the information."

 

John's head was spinning as he stepped into his flat with Mary. They had just come back from her ultrasound appointment and he had cried like a baby upon discovering they were having a boy. They had considered not knowing the gender of the baby but decided after the previous ultrasound that they had wanted to know. It wasn't the first time he had seen their baby on the screen but it looked more real than ever before.

 

Upon opening the door to their home, John had gone from excited to pleasantly annoyed at seeing Sherlock on his couch, screaming at his telly. 

 

"We're having a boy!" Mary exclaimed as she removed her scarf from around her neck and hung it on the coat rack by the door before removing her red peacoat. Sherlock looked at them both and tried to pretend to be happy but he felt an internal stab of pain that he couldn't understand. He offered a calm congratulations and stood up in a stern fashion before presenting his stern instructions to the doctor.

 

"Where are you going?" John asked, looking at the extensive list of experiments. Sherlock glanced to Mary and she gave him a knowing nod that he retuned and then replied, "I have an urgent case that needs to be dealt with sooner rather than later."

 

John nodded absently as he continued to look at the list and when he raised his head to question Sherlock about several experiments that were occurring in both locations at the same times, the man was gone.

 

John looked at Mary with a questioning glance, "What on earth was that about?"

 

His wife bit her lip nervously. She was an excellent liar and could keep secrets better than anyone he knew but he knew she was always honest with him unless it was a surprise for him. She would fake a nervous disposition when she was about to tell him something he really wouldn't want to know.

 

"I should sit down, shouldn't I?"

 

Marry nodded and John sighed, folding the paper and putting it in his pants pocket before removing his coat. He turned the telly off and sat on the couch. After he rubbed at the deep crease between his brows, he watched Mary come to sit next to him. She grabbed his hand and he turned to her. She sighed and squeezed his hand tightly.

 

The suspense was killing John and he said, "Love, if you don't tell me I'm going to combust. What's so big of a deal that Sherlock's abandoning everything?"

 

Another sigh escaped Mary's lips and she finally said, "I think Molly's daughter is Sherlock's."

 

John's face paled as he processed the short sentence. His eyes were distance and Mary could see his mind at work. She frowned and reached out to touch his cheek. She could feel his racing pulse as her fingers grazed his temple and said, "I think he's going to see her."

 

The doctor wasn't sure if 'her' was Molly or her daughter. Their daughter. His daughter. He couldn't even imagine Sherlock being remotely intimate despite their encounter with The Woman several years ago. And Molly. He was well aware of her love for the detective and could only imagine her joy at having him. But she was far away and married to another man so obviously things had not turned out in her favor.

 

The timeline fit though as he knew her age due to sending presents every year despite never meeting the child in person. He thought about the phone calls when Molly would force Scarlett to say 'thank you' for whatever gifts he had sent. As he thought about it, her voice and attitude replicated that of Sherlock's and he could tell by her tone that she was never really impressed with the girly presents he and Mary picked out. 

 

"My god," John finally breathed out and looked at Mary, "the poor kid."

 

Their eyes met in a moment of brief silence before the couple began to laugh hysterically.  
\-------------------------

"What on Earth do you think you're doing?" 

 

Sherlock spun around from the sink as he washed his hands with the cold water. He was in the restroom at the train station, only minutes from being ready to board the train that would carry him away from London.

 

Mycroft Holmes stood before Sherlock with a serious disposition, which was typical of the tall man. Sherlock growled, "What do you want?"

 

"I know where you're going but I want to know what you think you'll achieve," Mycroft said forwardly. Thankfully, no one else was in the bathroom as the younger Holmes glared daggers at his brother. His eyes cringed in confusion and then in realization as he said, "You... You knew. You knew the whole time?"

 

There was a long pause as Mycroft looked over his brother, trying to choose the words he wanted to say carefully. He set aside a lengthy response and decided to simply answer, "Yes."

 

Sherlock threw himself forward and grabbed Mycroft by his jacket and pushed him roughly against the tiled wall. Though they were both tall, Mycroft still looked down on him by a few inches. He frowned and said, "It was for everyone's protection that it remained a secret."

 

"Five years, Mycroft. Five _fucking_ years!" Sherlock roared. He pushed into his brother's chest roughly before pulling away from him. Mycroft straightened his tie, "I'm aware how long it's been. I've already set up a trust fund for her that she will be presented with when she is older."

 

Sherlock laughed manically, "Of course you did. You're such a wonderful _uncle_."

 

"As much as I regret to acknowledge it, she is family."

 

A gasp escaped Mycroft as pain exploded across his face and the warmth of his blood began to coat his lips. It only took a moment to realize his brother had successfully caught him off guard and had broken his nose with his slender fist.

 

"You do not talk about my daughter like that, Mycroft," Sherlock huffed, looking at the blood on his knuckles in disgust. He turned away from his brother and went back to the sink to wash his hands again. 

 

Mycroft scuffed his feet over to the row of sinks and without even glancing at Sherlock, began to wash the blood from his face. Pink drops of watered down blood splashed over the white porcelain as Mycroft used a handful of wet paper towels to wipe and wash the blood away. 

 

Mycroft cringed as he pushed on the bridge of his nose and felt the bone shift. It hurt but it wasn't the first time he had his nose broken by his brother and he was almost certain it wouldn't be the last. 

 

"Molly has made a new life for herself, Sherlock," Mycroft said over the sound of the running sink. The younger brother was drying his hands but refusing to look at his bleeding sibling. He continued, "I know you lack the understanding of human nature but you going to her may very well cause more harm than good."

 

Sherlock sighed deeply, "I need to see my child, Mycroft. It's my right as her biological father. I don't tend to uproot whatever Molly has deemed a happy life but it's not exactly fair that I wasn't informed."

 

"You of all people should know life isn't fair. It wasn't fair to Molly to be left to face a pregnancy alone. Even if she hadn't left London, you never even went in search of her when you returned. You expected to treat her as you always did despite what she put up with for you."

 

It was the bitter truth and Sherlock hated it more that it had come from his brother of all people. He had never intended for things to go so far with Molly but he was struck with grief over the events of The Fall and the fear he'd never return to the land of the living again. She had been warm and comforting. He took advantage of the love he constantly exploited but to a new level and in the morning he was gone. He was only just realizing the extent of the damage he caused.

 

Finally, Sherlock spoke, "What do I do?"

 

"Stay away, Sherlock. Let them try to live a normal life."

\-----------------------

John had received a text from Sherlock saying that he no longer needed him to check on his experiments. When he questioned the detective, the response only said that the case had been solved and he was remaining in London. With heavy concern, he shared this with Mary.

 

"Oh, dear," Mary sighed, "he must have changed his mind."

 

They agreed it was in Sherlock's best interest to not interfere. It only took a few weeks before he was coming around like usual and driving them out of their minds. The only real change was that he was more interested in Mary's pregnancy than ever before. They didn't mind but it was obvious he was compensating for the pregnancy he had missed out entirely with Molly and Scarlett.

 

Mary was at eight months and was beyond furious that Sherlock had performed experiments in her bathtub. He had been spending more time there than at his own flat and refused to take any new cases. He had vowed to John that while he was at work, he would keep an eye on Mary. He didn't mind it most times and he looked forward to documenting all the things that happened. He wished he had had the chance to document Molly's pregnancy as he was sure she would have allowed more access to some of the happenings that occurred with her body that Mary would not. It was all an experiment to him and the fact that he wasn't putting harmful substances in his body to cope was enough for those around him.

 

Sherlock's favorite part of sitting with Mary was when the baby kicked. He looked forward to Mary taking his hand and pressing it on the taut skin so he could feel the vibrations tickle his fingertips.

 

As Mary was approaching her due date, John came home one night with bags of Sherlock's favorite takeout. He let the detective have first dibs on everything and had been happy to see that over the fast few months the detective was eating almost regularly. 

 

"There's something Mary and I have been meaning to talk to you about," John had said as Sherlock contently and thoroughly chewed his food. He looked between the two with a furrowed brow and said, "If you want me to be in the delivery room, I happily accept the offer."

 

Mary snorted with laughter as John dropped his jaw in shock. He lost the words he was going to originally say and replied, "No! Absolutely not!"

 

"But it'd be beneficial for my research, John."

 

"This isn't up for discussion, Sherlock!" John yelled over Mary's ongoing laughter. She held her stomach with one hand and her mouth with the other.

 

The two men began to argue when finally Mary composed herself and called out, "We want you to be the godfather!"

 

Silence fell among the trio and Sherlock's mouth gaped open like a fish out of water. He looked between the two, not able to find the words to say. He had never even considered such an offer.

 

"Do you accept?" John finally asked but then quickly added, "On the strict account that you will not perform any experiments or take our son on any cases."

 

Sherlock humbly bowed his head and said, "I accept."

 

A few moments passed and Mary reached over the corner of the table and touched his hand, "We couldn't think of anyone better than you."

 

When Sherlock raised his head again, it had been clear he was holding back tears. He smiled at Mary and the slight facial movement allowed a single tear to escape, rolling along his sharp cheekbone.  
\------------------------------------  
"Do you have to go to London? They didn't come to your baby shower!" Tom argued as he held his screaming son. Scarlett ignored them all as she sat on the couch ready a rather serious novel that was not geared toward her now six years. It had been several months and she barely spoke to her parents and refused to acknowledge her infant brother. Months of therapy were proving to be an unsuccessful financial burden on the family.

 

Molly frowned as she struggled with her suitcase. She felt terrible for leaving Tom alone for the weekend with the kids but Scarlett was practically self-sufficient and she was constantly alone with Tommy. It was her husband's turn to be on diaper duty.

 

"I haven't seen my friends in more than six years, I want to see them!" Molly said loudly over Tommy. She kissed the infant's head before kissing her husband's lips. She stepped over to Scarlett and placed a kiss on top of her glorious curls and said, "I promise to bring you something good from London."

 

No response or acknowledgment came from the young girl. Molly pouted even though she expected it. With a heavy heart, Molly said goodbye and parted from her family for the first time ever. She felt too anxious and nervous but when her friend, Cynthia, drove her to the train station she said it was normal. With a quick hug the women had parted so that Molly could catch her train.

 

"Molly!" John called out when he spotted her stepping off the train. She couldn't help but smile at his familiar but slightly chubbier face. She wasn't the only one who had gained weight after marriage, she thought. John hugged her tightly and lifted her off her feet. It felt good to be missed so much.

 

The cab ride to John's was filled of comfortable talk of children and pregnancy. She could tell how nervous John was now that Mary had only a few weeks left as she had opted, like Molly had for both pregnancies, for an all natural birth.

 

John carried the weekend bag Molly had brought. It felt unsettling not to carry a diaper bag with her as they climbed the stairs to the third floor flat. The elevator wasn't working and John worried about it being fixed as he didn't want to encounter Mary's mood swing if she had to walk up the stairs in her current state.

 

Molly couldn't help but grin when she saw a very pregnant Mary resting on the couch with a pint of ice cream in her hands. Her eyes shone brightly on seeing Molly and yelled for assistance to get to her feet. 

 

Both Molly and John made a move toward Mary but were beat by a swift dark blur that had come from the hallway on the far side of the room. Molly paled upon realizing it was Sherlock and John dropped his jaw in disbelief. He had purposely given the detective a list of things to find in order to keep him from the flat as Molly would be spending the weekend with them.

 

"Thanks, Sherlock, dear," Mary said as Sherlock helped the off-balanced woman to her feet. Mary beamed at him and then to Molly, "Did John tell you Sherlock's going to be the godfather?"

 

Molly felt too many sets of eyes on her as she shook her head. The stare that Sherlock set upon her was too unsettling and she tried her best to ignore it as she muttered a simple greeting to him. 

 

"We set up a bed in the nursery. Sorry we couldn't dobetter," John said, interrupting the tension that Molly was sure she was imagining. She was sure Sherlock was only considering the night they had spent. She highly doubted he had any knowledge of the consequences that stemmed from that one encounter.

 

Molly faked a smile, "That's more than enough. Thank you again. Money is tight right now and I wouldn't have been able to come if I had to pay for a room."

 

"We're happy to have you!" Mary exclaimed and waddled over to Molly and hugged her as tightly as her expanded abdomen would allow. 

 

Sherlock excused himself and was gone from the flat shortly after Molly left her things in the nursery. She smiled at the sunset orange color of the walls that were toned down by the dark brown framed illustrations of storybook characters. It was a lovely room and Molly was slightly envious of the expensive baby furniture they had acquired. With Sherlock as the godfather, she imagined he made sure their baby would have nothing but the best.

 

The evening was relaxing after Sherlock's departure. They made a light dinner and John and Molly enjoyed a few too many glasses of wine while Mary made them both laugh with her wit and charm. It was one of the greatest nights that Molly had had in years.

 

John was the first one to go to bed and he left the two women to their own devices. Molly was still giggling from enjoyment of the night when she say Mary give her a sad smile. She tried to ignore it as she poured the last of the wine in her glass and took a small sip.

 

"You're holding up so well, Molly."

 

"What do you mean?" Molly asked nervously. She took another sip of fine and ran her fingers quickly through her hair. Even she wasn't used to it's shorter length. She couldn't wait until it was long enough to get in a ponytail again without hairs falling out and tickling her face throughout the day.

 

Mary sighed, "We know who Scarlett's father is."

 

It only took a moment for Molly to feel entirely sober. Her heart was pounding fiercely in her chest and she felt her cheeks burn in embarrassment. She let her jaw drop slightly as she sucked in a difficult breath. Her hands began to shake and she made sure she was nowhere near her wine glass as she would surely make a mess with the red drink.

 

"It's ok."

 

Molly shook her head and quickly stood up, "I'm sorry, Mary."

 

Before Mary could protest, Molly was going to the nursery and grabbing her bag. She came back out into the living room to see Mary just getting onto her swollen feet.

 

"Don't go, Molly, I'm sorry. We don't need to talk about it." Mary protested as she tried to cut Molly off though she knew she wasn't fast enough to do so. 

 

With a sigh, Molly dropped her bag and said, "There's nothing to talk about. She has Tom's last name and that's all I could ask for."

 

"But she has Sherlock's blood in her veins, I can't imagine that's been easy for you."

 

Molly fell to her knees and began to cry. She was embarrassed by her weakness and the alcohol made it so much easier for her to be open. She wanted to crawl under the couch and die. Mary cautiously approached her and whispered words of comfort and soon helped Molly stand to her feet. They moved to the couch and Molly used her shoulder to cry on.

 

Molly woke up in the morning with a blanket over her and a soft pillow under her head. She was on the couch and she could smell something delicious mixed in with the scent of tea. She groaned as she pushed herself up. The strain pulling at the hangover that was beginning to present itself. Her mouth was dry and her eyes felt raw but she felt better than she had in years.

\---------------------  
Sherlock tapped his foot impatiently as his landlady ignored his yells to hurry. They were due at Mary Watson's baby shower and he had been promised a piece of the baby's umbilical cord if he showed up as well as on time. Despite his enthusiasm for the pregnancy, he was not excited to spend an afternoon with women cooing over his pregnant friend.

 

John expressed his own desire to not have to be in attendance but unlike Sherlock, knew when he had to partake in undesired social exchanges. Sherlock decided he'd use the opportunity for a social experiment. He imagined it could be beneficial as pregnancies and female relations tended to play a large role in his work, even if he hadn't been working.

 

"I'm so excited to see Molly, she'll be there!" Mrs. Hudson exclaimed in the cab, making Sherlock frown internally at the mention of her name. How was he supposed to follow his brother's advice to stay away if she put herself directly in his path? He had every right to be there and more so than Molly as he had been heavily involved during the entire pregnancy.

 

Upon their arrival, Sherlock joined John and several men at the back of the small restaurant where they made full use of the bar. The men were acquaintances or partners of the women who were more actively involved in the shower. 

 

Sherlock spotted Molly in a heart beat. Her long hair was trimmed to a stylishly short cut that he detested. He wanted her long hair back even if it wasn't for his enjoyment anymore. She had put on several pounds but that was expected from a mother of two. She had wrinkles and worry lines in her face that she had never had before. She was aging and it pained him to see all the changes at once.

 

"Oi, Sherlock!" John yelled to get his attention. He sharply turned his head toward his friend and was met with a frown, "I know what you're looking at and it's not good, mate."

 

Sherlock mimicked the frown on John's face, "I was just noting her weight gain. It's what I've always done." 

 

John rolled his eyes, "Now, you're just being an arse."

 

Sherlock didn't respond and did his best to avoid staring at the woman he had once taken to bed. It was a struggle to keep the memory from resurfacing in his mind as he watched her laugh cautiously at a joke someone had made. He knew she was trying too hard to fit in with Mary's friends even though many of the woman eyed her wedding band enviously. It was clear several were pathetically single and some were unhappy in their own marriages. He could clearly fill his fingers and toes counting the adulterers in the room.

 

Against their wills, the men had been forced away from the bar and brought to the party to partake in games. Sherlock bit his lip in frustration at the mindlessness of it all. He was forced into guessing the full circumference of Mary's abdomen and was nearly flawless in his calculations. Many of the partygoers stared at him with shock but they moved on quickly to other unstimulating activities and soon he found himself in a line of men getting paired off to women. Sherlock heard them say something about wrapping the couples in toilet paper and he wished more than anything that a matter of national security beckoned his attention at that moment.

 

"I nominate Molly and the freak!"

 

Sherlock growled as Sally Donovan yelled smugly a suggestion that made him want to hit a woman for the first time in his life. If there was one thing he hated her for the most, this was it. With pleading eyes he looked to John and Mary who looked on horrified as Sherlock and Molly were pushed together. 

 

Molly's breasts were larger than they had been the last time he had seen her but he noted she had been breast feeding as he had seen the slight discoloration in her top from leaks where her nipples were. They were also pressed against him making it hard not to notice. She refused to look up at him, opting to stare at his chest and he was grateful for that as well as desperate to look into her eyes.

 

Several of the women were wrapping toilet paper around them, binding them in the weak material. He sighed in annoyance and as he took in another breath, he could smell Molly's familiar scent. He wondered if he was imagining it as he vaguely smelt the chemicals she had worked with at St. Bart's.

 

"Do you still work in a morgue?" Sherlock asked among the yelling and laughing of the party. He could see the muscles in her neck tense and she slowly looked up at him, "Not since Bart's."

 

Sherlock frowned at her response. He knew how much she had loved her job and couldn't help but say, "You should come back."

 

Molly pulled away from Sherlock, easily ripping the toilet paper and letting it fall to the floor. There were several yells after her as she quickly grabbed her purse on the way toward the door. Mary made a move to head after her but John stopped her as he saw Sherlock quickly follow behind her. The party grew quiet as they watched the two walk out.

 

Mary called for everyone's attention in an attempt to save the party.

\---------------------------------  
Sherlock supposed the slap across his face was deserved when he had tried to grab her arm and force Molly to face him once they were outside.

 

"Molly, I didn't mean to upset you."

 

Molly stood before him fighting back tears as he rubbed the sting from his cheek. She had felt ok that morning but she knew the feeling couldn't last. She just stared at the man before her and wondered what she had ever thought was so amazing about him.

 

"I'm sorry, Molly."

 

"No," Molly choked out. She shook her head and hugged herself, "This isn't anything you can make disappear with an apology."

 

Tears now began to stream consistently down Molly's cheeks and Sherlock sighed, knowing she was right. He held his hands up in defense and said, "I tried to stay away, Molly. I tried more than you realize."

 

"If you hadn't stayed away you wouldn't have to keep trying," Molly told him. He really hated the way she looked. Her face was distorted and he could tell she wanted to scream and sob. He, for once, felt like it was allowed.

 

"But I did and now I can't stop."

 

There was silence between them except for Molly's sniffles and the sounds of traffic on the street as they stood on the pathway between the restaurant and a neighboring building. It offered them some form of seclusion.

 

Molly closed her eyes and silently wished Sherlock away but only cried harder when he asked, "Tell me about her. I want to know."

 

It took several minutes but Sherlock was in no rush and Molly had no where else to be. It only figured he knew she wondered if he had deduced it. She calmed down enough to say between hiccups and choked sobs, "She looks like you. She acts like you. She already knows that Tom's not her father. She hasn't spoken to us since the baby was born."

 

Sherlock gulped at the less than perfect situation he had imagined his daughter to be in. He could never foresee her acting like him without his presence to offer an example. He thought that with all the love that Molly possessed and the good she exhibited, that his daughter would be normal like anyone else. He would never wish his child to be anything like him.

 

"And Tom is beginning to resent her. He resents me because of how she is."

 

"That's not fair to you," Sherlock argued, remembering his conversation with Mycroft that day he had planned on going to see them. He was wondering now if staying in London had been the right choice.

 

Molly let out a nearly manic laugh, "I'm aware that it's not fair but I'm trying to save my marriage and raise my children and your existence has made it impossible."

 

Sherlock looked deeply into Molly's eyes and asked, "What do you need?"

 

"You," Molly choked out, "to have never asked for my help that day."  
\-------------------------------------  
Molly was happy to be home and she could tell Tom was as well. He looked beyond stressed and worn out but her children looked to be in good shape and for that she was most grateful.

 

"If I ever get invited to another baby shower, please lock me in the basement and don't let me out until it's over," was Molly's response when her husband asked how the party had went. He realized by the response that it was not open for discussion so he left it at that.

 

Scarlett sat on her mother's bed as she silently watched her unpack. She pulled out a teddy bear she had gotten for Tommy and was wondering if she had forgotten to pack the snow globe she bought for Scarlett when she screamed, knocking the bag off the bed. A skull rolled out onto the floor.

 

"Cool!" 

 

The curious child quickly hopped off the bed and picked up the item and exclaimed, "Thanks, mommy,"

 

Molly was shocked as her daughter hugged her tightly. She looked down at the skull in her daughter's hand and saw a loop of baker's twine wrapped around a tooth and a tag in elegant and perfect handwriting that she was too familiar with despite not having seen it in six years.

 

_To Scarlett_

 

That was all it said.

 

Molly sat on the bed as tears of joy welled in her eyes as her daughter cried out, "Daddy, look what mummy got me!"

\---------------------------

"Motherhood suits you," Sherlock said kindly as he watched Mary fix him a cup of tea while balancing her eight week old son on her shoulder. He had come to ask John to accompany him on a case but the man had gone out for diapers. He was content being in the company of his family.

 

Mary smiled, loving the way Sherlock was growing and changing. Despite making Sherlock the godfather of their son, Peter, they had never actually planned on ever leaving Sherlock alone with him. The man had turned out to be an excellent babysitter which they discovered out of desperation on their anniversary when their regular babysitter was sick and not a single replacement could be found. They had gone to an elegant restaurant only to leave, horrified by their imaginations, before the main course to find Sherlock in mid-diaper change and doing an excellent job of it while playing Mozart on his phone for the infant.

 

Mary pressed a kiss to the top of Sherlock's head and slid the mug in front of him, smiling when he sighed contently. She remembered when she first kissed his head and the horrified look he gave her. She loved to baby him as she felt he was just a misunderstood child.

 

"By the way," Mary began to say as she went back to the kitchenette to grab a small towel to cover herself as she planned to breast feed her son in Sherlock's presence. She had always expected him to be uncomfortable with it be he had told her one day, "A mother providing for her child is never disgusting."

 

"Do you remember my friend Valerie from the baby shower?"

 

Sherlock frowned, "Is that the phlebotomist with the lisp?" 

 

"Yes, and she's very nice," Mary said firmly as she sat at the table across from Sherlock and with a few movements was smoothly feeding her son. She looked Sherlock directly in his glowing eyes, "She thinks you're handsome and I think she'd be good for you."

 

A growl of disgust escaped Sherlock's throat, "Well, of course she thinks I'm handsome. Have you seen me?"

 

"Way to be modest, darling."

 

"But she is a phlebotomist. She could be quite useful," Sherlock began to think out loud, bringing his fingers to his chin as he weighed out the possible scenarios he could use her expertise and access to blood supplies for.

 

Mary sighed in annoyance, "I'm not setting you up if you just plan on using her like poor Molly."

 

The name startled Sherlock from his thoughts and he scowled at the blonde, "That was highly uncalled for."

 

"Was it? Because we all know how that story ended," Mary said rather bluntly, causing the detective to blush.

 

"Moving on! I'll accept one meeting to determine her adequacy but I make no promises to pursue any romantic endeavors with her."

 

At that moment, Sherlock swept out of his seat and downed the warm tea and headed for the door as John opened it with two bags filled with diapers and baby wipes. He couldn't even greet his friend as he stormed out of the flat.

 

John looked at Mary in confusion and asked, "What was that about?"

 

With a cheesy grin Mary exclaimed, "Sherlock has a date!"  
\--------------------------

Molly pulled the curlers out of her hair, smiling to herself as her locks bounced like springs. Her hair was getting long again. She grabbed her eyeshadow and spread the shimmery beige on her lids, her mouth hanging open in the process.

 

It was her fifth wedding anniversary and Tom had made reservations at a nice restaurant in the town over. It had been years since they had a proper date and she relished in the chance to dress up. The week before, she had pulled out an old black dress and nearly cried when she recalled the last time she had worn it at a horrid Christmas party at 221B. It was the only nice dress she had and it didn't even fit her anymore.

 

Molly had found a lovely emerald dress at the thrift store by the place where Tom worked. After bringing him lunch the other day, she went in with Tommy and found the beautiful garment on sale for only a few pounds. She purchased it without a second thought.

 

The dress was flattering to the curves childbearing had given her body and the color complimented her lightly tanned skin, from their last holiday at Tom's cousin's beach house, and her flowing hair. She didn't even mind the few greys that were presenting themselves.

 

Tom looked handsome in his suit and Molly was quick to compliment him as he entered their room. She had just finished getting ready. He looked her over and with a small smile said, "You look good."

 

The smile Molly had on her face fell to a straight line and she nodded. He left her to go out to the car and she put her jacket on by herself. The children were at Tom's parents and she walked out of the dark and quiet house feeling lonely.

 

Dinner was silent though Molly tried her hardest to make conversation. She had hardly seen much of her husband over the past few weeks as he had been working hard. She would bring him his lunch some days just for a chance to see him. Sometimes he asked the lady who worked in reception to have her leave the lunch with her.

 

They didn't have dessert nor wine at the restaurant. Molly missed those little things before they had gotten married when Tom pulled out all the stops. He had been charming and generous even when she would have been happy for simpler things. She didn't want much but she missed the romance.

 

"I'm pretty tired tonight," Tom announced as they pulled up to the theater to see the local company perform a play. He didn't look directly at Molly as he said it. He looked past her. She frowned, looking straight ahead through the windshield, "Then let's go home."

 

They drove away from the theater in silence to their quiet and empty home.  
\--------------------------------  
Sherlock didn't mind the lisp, he thought as he tilted his head in fascination as the phlebotomist talked about rare blood disorders she had access to despite only being the person who drew the blood, not studied it. In fact, it was hardly noticeable. Regardless, she was intelligent and independently well studied and she was fascinated by Sherlock's deduction of her, even the less charismatic things.

 

"No need to sugar coat things, I can take it," she had told him and he found that to be rather charming in its own way.

 

They had been at the Italian restaurant for nearly two hours and Sherlock actually blushed for the first time at the mention of John being his lover when Angelo, the owner, had questioned him about why his date was not him. Regardless, the Italian was welcoming and happy as ever to have his favorite consulting detective at his restaurant.

 

As Valerie spoke, Sherlock took in her features. She had blonde hair that had never been dyed. Blue eyes that matched his but seemed to be a hint kinder. He could see many of her veins through the pale skin and it was easy for him to observe her pulse in her neck. She showed no signs of nervousness or irritation with him throughout the night. Her nails were trimmed and painted a red that wasn't too seductive but not incredibly modest. She wore minimal makeup though he could tell she preferred not to wear any and the fact that she did made him think she felt it was necessary due to the nature of the evening. 

 

No children, lives alone, does strength training as well as running, and has a dog though the fur on her pants indicated it was old and possibly on its way out. He could do without the dog but her other traits didn't bother him. He could see why Mary had recommended her to him. She knew him well enough.

 

The night ended, surprisingly, without incident and Sherlock followed Mary's advice to walk Valerie home. He kept an adequate distance between them but not enough to make her feel isolated. It seemed his calculations were correct as she happily strolled along with him.

 

"Maybe one of these days you'd like to see where I work?" Valerie suggested as they approached her apartment building. She stood on the steps and was almost at eye level with him. He looked at her in surprise and smiled, "I... would very much enjoy that."

 

Valerie smiled and leaned in, kissing Sherlock's cheek and said, "Great, text me when you're free."

\---------------------------

"Sherlock Holmes has a girlfriend. I can't believe it!" John exclaimed after Sherlock casually briefed Mary on his fourth date with Valerie. She was bouncing Peter gently and patting his back, trying to burp him. It had been two months since she had set up their first date.

 

Mary smiled at her husband, "I can, the man was dripping with loneliness."

 

John laughed and said, "But that's how Sherlock is! He wouldn't be Sherlock if he didn't force himself to be such a tortured soul!"

 

The baby finally burped and Mary was content. She rolled her eyes at John and said, "Can you put Peter down for bed so I can shower? You can tell him all about Sherlock getting a girlfriend."

 

John smirked as he took his son in his arms. He pressed a kiss to the soft head and cradled him close. His wife couldn't help but smile and lean to kiss John strongly on the mouth and say, "I love you, John Watson." 

 

"I love you, Mary Watson... but you really need to shower."

 

Mary pretended she was going to hit him but didn't actually simply because he was holding their son. She vowed revenge and kissed her son's head before going to the bathroom.

 

"Your mother is quite the matchmaker, Peter," John whispered to the quiet infant and rocked him gently until his eyes closed and remained so. His breathing changed and John quietly brought him to his nursery and laid him in his crib. He stirred for only a moment but was sound asleep again.

 

John whispered his love to the child and as he closed the door to the nursery, the phone rang. He ran across the living room and picked it up.

 

"Hullo?" John asked distractedly as he quickly went to picking up the mess of toys and baby clothes scattered around the place. There was silence on the other end and he repeated himself. This time he was met with a small whimper and he quickly asked, "Who is this?"

 

"John, it's me."

 

There was a pause, "It's Molly."

 

John dropped the bundle of clothes in his arm, not expecting her of all people to be calling. She tended to email more than call as it was most convenient with her busy family life.

 

"Hey, Molls, is everything ok? How are you doing?"

 

This was the first time he had heard her voice in several months since she had been at their flat the weekend of Mary's baby shower. She had been an emotional train wreck and he felt to blame by practically forcing Sherlock to be around her. He could have never foreseen the disaster that it became.

 

"Um," Molly said, "I'm really embarrassed, John. I shouldn't have called." Her voice was nervous and strained and he quickly stopped her from hanging up. He encouraged her to tell him what was wrong.

 

"Tom left me for his secretary."  
\------------------------

"Of course, you're welcome back! It'll be great to have someone who actually knows how to do their job!" Mike Stamford exclaimed happily as Molly stood before the man. She had tried to dress as smartly as she could when she walked into her appointment with her former supervisor. She had left the hospital on good terms though everyone had suspected Sherlock's death to have been her cause for leaving, not the pregnancy she kept hidden.

 

Molly wanted to hug the large man as she received the first decent news in a long time. She was living on the generosity of John and Mary and it was trying at best. Their tiny flat was not meant to accommodate two infants and a growing child who displayed all of Sherlock's theatrics for life as well as three adults.

 

They had only been there for a few weeks and she was already feeling terrible about the burden she caused them. She had wanted to get her job back sooner but Mike had been out of town and when he did return, he had caught some nasty virus and was out of work even longer. 

 

John had quietly told Molly one evening that he was keeping Sherlock away from the flat though he didn't mention it was easier than ever due to his time spent with his girlfriend. The two had surprisingly hit it off very well and John didn't know how to tell her. Molly was just happy to have him away even though she knew it'd only be a matter of time before she bumped into him at work.

 

But everything went off without a hitch. Molly started working and used her first pay checks to treat John and Mary to an evening out without children, stocked them with food, diapers, and wipes, and left them with a heartfelt handwritten note displaying her gratification among a flower arrangement when she finally found a flat.

 

Mary helped Molly decorate her new flat. She was grateful for the company as Scarlett, who was more sociable than ever in the stimulating environment London offered, was at school and Tommy was at a daycare for a few hours a day to allow her to get things done.

 

There wasn't much that Molly had brought from the home she shared with Tom. Most of the things she had brought to London had been for the children and it pained her to know that he made no fight for them. It was just a testament to how alone she really was.

 

"Is the bastard at least paying you support?" Mary asked when Molly made a mention to buying new clothes for Scarlett, who was growing taller everyday. She wondered if she'd be as tall as Sherlock. That thought made her sick so she pushed it aside.

 

Molly had just finished putting together a small nightstand for Scarlett's room as she replied, "Just once so far and it wasn't much. I just don't have the heart to deal with him, Mary."

 

It was true. She was so exhausted from crying herself to sleep every night. She dreaded yet anticipated the day the final divorce papers would arrive at her door. She had not put up a fight for anything as there wasn't anything she wanted from the man she had made a life with except her children. He didn't even want them. Everything else would just be a cold, hard reminder of her inadequacy as a wife.

 

There was a knock at the door and Mary said, "That must be John, I'll get it."

 

Molly nodded as Mary left the room. She picked up the tools she had used to put the nightstand together with and was placing them in the small tool-bag that Mary and John had lent her as she slowly but surely turned the bare flat into a home she was content with raising her children in.

 

A few moments passed and she heard murmuring in the hallway and then Mary exclaimed, "What do you think you're doing here?!"

 

Molly knew before she stepped into the hallway who Mary was yelling at. Her heart felt like it was residing in her stomach and she was ready to throw it up at any moment. Sherlock Holmes stood beside John Watson as the shorter man held the travel carrier that contained his son.

 

"John, I'm going to strangle you later," Mary mumbled, staring viciously at her husband. John paled, "I swear to god I didn't...he followed me!"

 

Sherlock brushed past Mary despite her attempt to bar him and he said, "I spoke with Lestrade and Stamford. They said you were back at Bart's. I just... came to offer my congratulations."

 

Molly crossed her arms over her chest and nodded. She was grinding her teeth and she willed herself to stop. She watched helplessly as his eyes flicked back and forth across her messy living room. There were boxes and clothes everywhere and she frowned when she saw him eye a framed photograph she had left on the couch.

 

"Is that her?"

 

Sherlock didn't wait for a response as he swept forward and held up the picture. It was of Scarlett on her third birthday. She had received a small computer meant for children her age and she had managed to take it apart in less than an hour in an attempt to discover what made it work. Tom's sister had bought it and was furious when she saw the child staring methodically at its internal components. Molly was embarrassed and apologized for weeks but at that moment, she couldn't help but snap the photo and frame it. It was a testament to her daughter's brilliance and desire for knowledge.

 

John and Mary watched the detective cautiously from the doorway before looking to Molly, silently asking if they should intervene. She gave them a slight shake of her head and then looked back to Sherlock as he studied the picture furiously. Then it dawned on Molly.

 

"You've never seen her before, have you?"

 

Sherlock's eyes were the softest she had ever seen as they met her dark ones, "No. I've tried to imagine it but this is more than I could ever hope for it."

 

Molly gulped nervously and tried to relax as she said, "You can have it. The picture. If you want."

 

The corners of Sherlock's lips turned up ever so slightly at the familiar way she spoke. It had been years since he had her normal nervous sentence structure. He shook his head and tapped his temple with a long and graceful finger, "No need, it's all here."

 

Sherlock stepped toward Molly and handed her the frame, "Thank you, Molly Hooper."

 

Molly frowned as she hugged the picture to her chest, "I'm not Molly Hooper anymore."

 

It was the truth. She was Molly Maddison even though she would soon be divorced from the man who gave her his name. She wondered if she wanted to go through the paperwork again that would make her Molly Hooper once more. The only thing was that she didn't feel like she could ever really be Molly Hooper ever again.

 

Sherlock reached out to Molly before she could even protest his hands on her shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat as he leaned into her and said softly, "You have always been Molly Hooper."

 

His lips brushed against the warm skin of her forehead that heated during her interaction with the man. Without another word, he stepped away from her and left the flat without looking back.

\----------------------

"I brought you a blood sample containing a new parasite from a guy just back from Africa," Valerie said enthusiastically as she carried a bag of takeout into the flat of the consulting detective. He stood by the fireplace and stared at the empty spot where his skull used to sit. He looked to the blonde as she smiled at him from the doorway. He returned the gesture but just barely.

 

Valerie went into the kitchen and moved aside a jar containing a preserved snake and set the bag on the table as well as her purse. She dug through the bag and pulled out a vial of blood and walked back to the living room. She had to stand on her toes to press a kiss to Sherlock's cheek and she held the sample to him. 

 

It wasn't hard to tell he was preoccupied with his thoughts as his fingers slowly wrapped around the tube and pulled it from her hand. He had yet to say a word to her and she knew better than to ask him what was wrong. She gave him a sad smile and went back to the kitchen to fix up a plate for herself, knowing that if Sherlock was in a mood, he wouldn't be eating.

 

Nearly an hour had gone by before Sherlock pulled away from his mind. Valerie was laying on the couch, watching a movie on the telly. He looked at the vial of blood, warm from his hand and placed it on the bare spot on the mantel and slowly walked over to the couch.

 

Valerie looked up and smiled kindly as she noticed Sherlock standing by her. She made a move to remove her feet from the couch so that he could sit down but was stopped as he dropped to his knees, cradled her face and kissed her with more passion than he had the entire time they had been dating.

 

The taste of tobacco and tea invaded her mouth and she moaned at the sensation of his tongue against hers. Without breaking the kiss, Sherlock pushed off his knees and shifted his body onto hers, pinning her into the cushions but she didn't mind. He moaned as her hands tugged on his curls and felt himself grinding mercilessly against her hips.

 

"Bedroom," Valerie managed to say against his lips. It took a few moments for him to respond. He did so by grabbing her by her hips and pulling her onto his lap before standing up and carrying her to his room.

 

Sherlock didn't sleep that night. He had slipped out of his bed, leaving the slumbering blonde to dream alone as he dressed in his wrinkled clothes. He went to the kitchen and sat at the table. He pulled the mangled cigarette pack from his pocket and was relieved to find one still in tact. He lit it and stared at the snake floating in the jar.

 

With the cigarette finished, Sherlock stood up and went over to the window in the living room to pick up his violin. He thought for a moment he should care about the fact the woman he had just made love to deserved to sleep but he decided he didn't care. He began to play but after half a minute, he decided he wanted to play a different song. He found himself changing what he was playing quite rapidly until he was startled by the sound of footsteps and arms wrapping around him. He felt Valerie's body against his back as she said, "I think I love you, Sherlock Holmes."

 

A slow and mournful song vibrated from the stings of his violin.  
\--------------------  
"How are the kids doing?" Greg Lestrade asked over the body of a sixty year old women they had found dead in her flat with a stab wound to her femoral artery. He had declared it murder but Molly said suicide. She had just finished showing him the angle of the wound in conjunction with the length of her arm.

 

Molly shrugged as she pulled the sheet over the body, "You know how it is. Wonderful one day, a pain in the arse the next but you love them all the same."

 

Greg smiled and chuckled, "I know how it is. Lucky that you get to see them everyday. The ex-wife would never let me see them if she had her way."

 

Molly frowned, feeling bad for the detective inspector. They had know each other for more than a decade and he was too kind of a man to deserve the treatment he received from his ex-wife. She knew how much he loved his kids as he would enthusiastically show her new pictures on his phone all the time. He had asked to see picture of Scarlett and Tommy once but was thankfully called on by Stamford to help him with samples. She felt terrible for not showing off her beautiful children.

 

It had been two years since Molly had returned to St. Bart's and though things were exactly as they used to be, she was more at peace with herself than she had been during the height of her marriage. She had finally gotten around to the paperwork and she was Molly Hooper again despite her children maintaining Tom's name. It was something they agreed on as long as he wouldn't fight for custody though he wanted visitation once a month to appease his own parents' longing to see their grandchild. They expressed their lack of desire for Scarlett once the divorce was finalized and so Tommy was picked up every second Friday of the month and Scarlett was left behind with her mother.

 

"Look, Molly," Greg said, pulling the pathologist from her thoughts. She looked at him with a startled expression, "I don't want this to be weird but I was wondering if you'd be my date for the wedding?"

 

Molly stared at Greg in confusion and chuckled, "Um, who's getting married?"

 

There was a long pause as Greg looked at her in disbelief. He scratched his head nervously and said, "Sherlock's. Didn't you get the invite?" Everything went black.

 

When Molly opened her eyes, she was on the floor being cradled by Greg. She blushed and stammered unintelligible words as he tried to calm her, "Gave me a scare there, Molly. You ok?"

 

Molly tried to shake the dizzy feeling but she found herself numb and in shock. She looked up at him and asked, "Sherlock's getting married?"

 

Greg frowned deeply and blushed. He had assumed with the fact she had married, and divorced, that her crush on Sherlock had passed. He felt stupid beyond belief for asking her to be his date to his ceremony.

 

"Shit, Molly," Greg groaned miserably, "I thought you knew. I feel like such an arse!"

 

Molly found her strength returning and she pushed herself up off of Greg. He helped her stand on shaky legs and then wheeled her office chair over for her to sit down. She thanked him but avoided looking into his eyes.

 

"Forget I asked, I'm sorry."

 

"No!" Molly exclaimed, seeing Greg's defeat. He had been sweet on her for years. She couldn't treat him the way Sherlock had treated her. It would be hypocritical of her. She gave him a forced smile and said, "It's ok. It's fine. I want to go. With you, that is. I'll be your date."

 

Greg smiled hesitantly at her, noting her hesitance. He tried to over look it as he kissed her hand and then went in search for a bottle of water for the pale pathologist.  
\-------------------

Sherlock yelled in frustration as blood smeared across his arm. He had been trying to draw blood on himself and was finding it more difficult than his fiancée had made it look when she had demonstrated on herself. She had shown him how to properly draw blood and he could do it without problem on others. He accepted defeat for the time being and used a cotton swab to collect the sample of his blood.

 

The detective studied the cells under his microscope and wondered for a moment if Molly would allow him to have a sample of their daughter's blood. It would be purely scientific but John's voice echoed in his head, telling him she would never go for it.

 

He was at his wits end as he thought about his upcoming nuptials. As Valerie and he strived toward a future together, her plans included offspring and Sherlock had yet to tell her of his own. John and Mary were furious that he had let it go this far and he wondered if they were right.

 

"Sherlock, why don't you come to bed?"

 

Valerie stood in the doorway of his room, wearing one of his shirts that he no longer wore. It was stained with his blood and patched on the side where he had been stabbed a year ago while on a case. It amused him that she had kept, after washing, the tattered shirt and wore it to bed often.

 

Sherlock merely glanced at Valerie over his shoulder before looking into his microscope again. She approached him and tutted, "Try not to get blood on the guest list, I have to give this to the reception hall tomorrow."

 

Sherlock had no response but he listened as she shuffled papers around. She made a humming nose before saying, "Greg called earlier. Said he plans on bringing a date after all."

 

"If he plans on using my wedding as a way to get back with his ex-wife then he's uninvited," Sherlock muttered. Valerie smiled and looked at the paper more closely in the dim light of the kitchen, "No ex-wife. It's a... Uh, Molly Hooper?"

 

Sherlock froze as his fiancée asked, "Isn't she the girl who works in the morgue at St. Bart's?"

 

Valerie frowned as Sherlock pulled away from the microscope. His face looked gaunt in the poor light and he began to chew on the inside of his cheek. He had intentionally not sent her an invitation as a courtesy to their strained relationship. 

 

"Guess Greg likes to work close to home," Valerie chuckled. She yelped in fear as Sherlock crashed his fists on the kitchen table. Several things rattled but he showed no concern for them as he stood up violently and said, "I would appreciate it if you made no remarks about the mother... Molly Hooper. She is an exceptional pathologist."

 

The initial shock wore off and Valerie narrowed her eyes on Sherlock, "What were you just about to say?"

 

Sherlock paled and shook his head, "I said exactly what I meant to. If you're inferring that I was saying something else you are superbly mistaken."

 

"No," Valerie shot back, her heart racing as she pointed a finger at the man she had devoted almost three years of her life to and was about to make a lifelong commitment to, "I know what you were about to say. I've watched enough crap telly to know exactly what you were going to say, Sherlock. I'm not stupid."

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes, hoping if he scoffed enough that she would resign and go back to bed, "I'm not making any accusations regarding your intelligence. If you have any doubts about that, they are problems that you need to face on your own."

 

The slap across Sherlock's face stung and with it brought back the memory of the baby shower. He supposed that he had earned this assault on his cheek as well.

 

"You've never lied to me before, Sherlock, so I'm going to ask you this once."

 

Sherlock sighed deeply, knowing the question as she formed the words in her mouth. He looked at her and said, before she could have the chance, "Molly Hooper is the mother of my daughter, Scarlett Maddison. She is nine years old and I have never met her once. She is the product of a one night joining between myself and the good doctor. I was only made aware of her existence when she was five."

 

Each word burned and stung as Valerie listened intently, trying to make sense of the information. She had gone three years without knowing. She had sat next to Molly at Mary's baby shower while she ogled the strange detective, not knowing when they had stormed outside that they had _that_ history. When she asked about him a few days after the shower, Mary had declared him "unattached" and she believed her.

 

The only words Valerie could manage to say were, "You bastard."  
\----------------------------

Molly smiled to herself as she removed the smooth grey dress from her closet. It was brand new and the tags were still on it from when she had bought it at the department store the week before. She thought it was funny how being divorced had benefited her financially even without receiving any support from Tom, who had married his receptionist. He was currently filing for bankruptcy as his bride had ran up his credit cards on multiple shopping trips and a vacation to Mauritius.

 

The fabric was cool on her skin as it flowed gracefully over her curves. She had been going to the gym at work on her lunch breaks and had finally lost the baby weight she had put on plus some from too much takeout. Her hips were still wide but she enjoyed it over her body before she had Scarlett. Her stomach still bore the stretch marks from her pregnancy and her breasts would never be perky again but she wouldn't have traded her body for anything.

 

The dress hit the top of her knees and while she hated wearing hosiery, she put on a pair of sheer black stockings to keep from looking unfinished. She tied her hair up as she always had, in a simple ponytail, but fastened an elegant clip around the tie that reflected in the light. Her makeup was minimal and she finished her outfit with pearl stud earrings and modest black heels. She felt off balance when she stood up but after a few minutes she felt confident enough.

 

John was sitting on the couch with Scarlett when she stepped into the living room. Tommy was with his father and Mary was home with Peter as he had contracted the chicken pox. The aging doctor happily offered to babysit and she was grateful as she did not trust Scarlett with just anybody.

 

"Mummy, you look ravishing," Scarlett said with a giggle, looking up from an intricate puzzle book she had received in the post from Mike Stamford on her birthday. He knew from Molly telling him how smart she was and the simple gift had been her favorite. The puzzles were more advanced than anything Molly had ever seen and could hardly solve any of them. Scarlett had solved the entire book and had been studying the puzzles intently and then using them to create new ones. John was currently be subjected to one of her creations. He looked up at Molly to express in frustration but only found himself saying, "Wow."

 

Molly blushed and asked, "You don't think... Is it too much?"

 

John shook his head, "No, it's like it was made for you! Shame you couldn't wear it to the wedding."

 

Molly frowned nervously at the mention of the wedding that had been called off a few weeks prior. The pathologist had no idea why it had been but she had her suspicions. She found it better to not ask questions as she had discovered from a drunken Mary Watson one night that Sherlock never asked about her or Scarlett. She wasn't sure if that was good or bad but she tried not to dwell on it.

 

When Greg had told her the wedding was cancelled, she had been secretly relieved. She had been second guessing herself by wondering if saying yes to Greg had been the best idea. He came into the morgue with Sherlock often and no matter his mood, he always seemed more cheerful to see her when his eyes caught her. She remained professional with Greg, even when alone in the morgue and always civil with Sherlock as he had the decency to do the same. It had been a long time since Sherlock had manipulated or insulted her and she wanted to keep it that way.

 

Molly nervously called for a cab, she couldn't dare have him pick her up. She couldn't risk having him see Scarlett and making the connection. She sometimes wondered if it was painfully obvious that she was the detective's child or she was incredibly paranoid. She imagined it was a mixture of both.

 

With a kiss to the cheek for John and to the top of the head for Scarlett, Molly was out into the night getting into the honking cab. She gave the driver the address to the restaurant she was to meet Greg at and savored the silence during the ride.

 

Greg was everything a proper date should be. His hair had accumulated more white over the years but he was as handsome as ever with his sharp tuxedo. Molly had to admit she was impressed as he helped her with her coat and pushed her chair in for her. To her surprise, the conversations came easy though she imagined the wine that seemed to always be in her cup had to have helped. She was flustered when he paid the bill without even looking at it, waving her off when she tried to offer to split it.

 

Despite the perfection of the evening, she couldn't agree more when Greg undid his bow tie, but left it in his collar, and suggested getting a few pints at the pub. She let Greg put his arm around her in the cab and didn't fuss again when he paid the driver.

 

Molly wasn't even sure what there was left to talk about but whatever it was had them laughing for ages. They had received stares for their dress clothes but ignored them as they shared a secluded table in the corner of the packed pub. Before their cups were fully empty, Greg would tackle his way through the patrons, many who recognized him as a regular or from work, to obtain refills.

 

After their third pint, Molly's face was warm and red but she swayed happily on her stool as Greg went for what he declared their final round. She was not used to drinking so much and the wine didn't make things any better. She was aware of the hangover she was going to have but she was thankful that Scarlett would probably let her sleep in without much complaint.

 

A man slipped into Greg's seat as Molly waited patiently for him to return and she frowned heavily at the intrusion. "What's a pretty thing like you doing all alone?" The man asked as he reached a hand out to brush her cheek. She could hardly lean away as she was nearly pressed against the wall to begin with but the hand never touched her as it was pulled away before she could say anything.

 

It took a few moments in her drunken haze to understand what had just happened. Her eyes focused and she felt all of the liquid contents in her stomach begin to make a reappearance when she saw Sherlock twisting the man's arm painfully behind his back. The detective muttered something into his ear and shoved him away before looking at Molly with a concerned look.

 

"Where's Lestrade?" Sherlock asked. Before Molly could even react, Greg appeared with a sour look on his face and two pints in his hands, "I'm right here."

 

Sherlock turned to look at the older man, "I find it very inadequate of you to leave Dr. Hooper unattended, Lestrade. It's rather ungentlemanly of you."

 

"No, no, no,no..." Molly groaned as she slipped off her stool. She covered her mouth with her hand and rushed to the bathrooms. There was a line at the door but upon seeing what Moly needed the bathroom for, the women moved aside and she shoved a younger girl out of the way as she was coming out of the room. She feel to her knees in front of the toilet, cringing at the wet floor and crying as she coughed violently into the toilet.

 

Molly was so glad she had tied her hair up that evening and but she was still grateful to feel someone hold the pony tail behind her shoulder. When she had finished, she looked up to see Greg's warm eyes on her and Sherlock standing in the doorway with a look of envy as well as concern. At least, she thought she saw envy. She couldn't imagine any other reason for him to interrupt her date.

 

"Let's get you out of here," Greg said kindly as he helped her to her feet. They both groaned, their joints not as smooth as they used to be. Sherlock backed away from the door and allowed them to pass. Greg ordered him to get heir coats as he began to lead Molly outside.

 

The cold air felt heavenly on Molly's skin and she groaned in content at the feeling as Greg leaned her against the wall outside. She looked at him with a frown and said,"I am so so sorry, that man just makes me so..."

 

"No need to apologize, Molls, are you ok though?" Greg asked as he stood in front of her with his hands in his pockets. Molly pouted and nodded, "I am and I'm sorry I'm too drunk to enjoy how devilishly handsome you look."

 

There was a moment of awkward silence before the two began to laugh and Greg found himself bracing Molly's cheek with one hand and her waist with the other. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, "If you hadn't just thrown up, I'd kiss you proper."

 

"Way to make me feel like a bigger arse!" The pathologist yelled, her red face burned even more in humiliation. She groaned miserably when Sherlock exited the bar with their coats in hand. He made a move to hold Molly's coat open for her but Greg snatched it from him and did it himself. Molly was silently grateful as he pulled the coat on her shoulders, letting his fingers graze the soft skin.

 

Greg looked to Sherlock and said, "Bad luck about the wedding, mate. We were rooting for you at the office. Donovan almost choked when she heard about the engagement."

 

Sherlock scowled at him but said nothing. There was a long and awkward silence before Greg finally asked, "Is there something we can help you with?"

 

After putting Molly's jacket on her, Greg had slipped his arm around her waist and the two stood blissfully unaware yet content with the contact they were sharing. Sherlock noted and shook his head, "I had a question about a case but I think under the circumstances with you both being inebriated it would be highly unethical to consult you for a professional opinion. It can wait until tomorrow."

 

Without another word, Sherlock spun on his head and walked away quickly, his coat billowing behind him. Molly and Greg looked at each other with confusion though she was masking her worries and concerns about his real reason for turning up.

 

"That was out of character," Greg finally stated.

 

"Was it?" Molly asked.  
\-------------------------------------

Mrs. Hudson glared at Valerie as she carried the last of her things out of 221B. It had been several weeks since she had called the wedding off and left the flat, leaving the consulting detective alone. She had been returning periodically to obtain her things with regularity and Sherlock was able to avoid her with ease.

 

"You have no idea how long it took for us to get Sherlock to be able to enter a relationship," the landlady growled at the younger woman from the door to her own flat.

 

Valerie turned on the old woman, "Don't feed me that bullshit! I know all about him and Molly Hooper!"

 

The outburst caught Mrs. Hudson off guard and she was speechless and confused as she watched the blonde leave the building for the last time.

 

"You have some explaining to do, Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson shrieked when Sherlock finally returned home. He froze midway up the stairs and looked down at Mrs. Hudson with a frown. She was older than he wanted to admit. Her hip had gotten so bad that she couldn't even make it up the stairs anymore. His flat had only been clean when Valerie was there and if he wanted decent tea, he carried himself downstairs to get it.

 

Sherlock sighed, not wanting to know what his landlady wanted to complain about, "This isn't a good time, Mrs. Hudson." He turned to continue up the stairs but it wasn't enough to stop her, "At my age, now is the only time I have. I want to know what on earth happened with you and Molly!"

 

The tall and slender man froze again. She watched him breath heavily several times before walked slowly down the stairs and glared at her, "What do you know about Molly?"

 

The stare the detective gave Mrs. Hudson left her stammering, "I..I don't know. Valerie. S-she said something about Molly."

 

Seeing his landlady scared of him softened his gaze, "My apologizes, Mrs. Hudson. As I said, it's not a good time."

 

"But Sherlock..." Mrs. Hudson tried but he shook his head and went up the stairs without a backwards glance, leaving the landlady confused and hurt to not be trusted by the man she considered to be like a son.  
\-----------------------------

Molly awoke to the feeling of warm, moist air hitting her neck. She smiled to herself and rolled toward the source of it, earning a groan and mutter of "S'early, love." It made her smile grow and she kissed the creases on the older man's forehead, "I need to call John and Mary to check on the kids."

 

Greg muttered something she couldn't quite make out but she didn't mind. She scooted off the bed, grabbing the man's dressing gown and wrapped it around her naked body. She looked at the sheet covered body of the detective inspector and felt butterflies and giddy as she had almost every morning that she was blessed enough to wake up with him over the past six months. If someone had told her a decade ago that she would share a bed with Greg Lestrade, she would have laughed her head off. 

 

She really didn't want to leave the bedroom but despite Greg's protest of being too early, it was creeping closer to eleven and she really did need to check on the kids. She called from the kitchen as she made coffee and food for two, incredibly familiar with where Greg kept everything.

 

"Have a good evening?" Mary asked with a knowing tone in her voice over up the sound of screaming kids. Molly frowned, hoping that Tommy wasn't causing too much trouble. Though she did worry what mischief Scarlett could get into as the trouble she caused was of an entirely different nature that of her brother.

 

Molly blushed but replied, "It was very lovely, thanks for asking."

 

"Hmmm, I'll bet," Mary said and the blush on Molly's face burned more intensely. She quickly changed the subject, "How are the kids? I probably won't get there until one, we slept in this morning."

 

Molly didn't apologize though she felt like she should. She had a working arrangement with the Watsons. They alternated weekends to babysit so that they and Molly could both enjoy at least two date nights a month. It was a wonderful system except that Greg had begun pressuring her to introduce him to Scarlett and Tommy and she didn't know what to do.

 

"We almost had a run in with Sherlock but thankfully the kids were already asleep when he came. John sent him right back out the door. He didn't look so good though."

 

Molly sighed, "I can't be concerned with him, Mary, I've got enough on my plate. Was he trying to see Scarlett?"

 

"No," Mary replied calmly, "he wanted to see John. He left willingly when he said Scarlett and Tommy were here. He's quite respectful of that. Surprisingly."

 

Molly couldn't believe that they had managed to go this long with keeping Sherlock and Scarlett apart. She imagined they'd cross paths eventually but she was scared beyond belief of the consequences.

 

Content that her children were ok, Molly and Mary ended their conversation just as Greg stepped out of the bedroom in nothing but his boxers. He yawned, making Molly giggle as she thought he looked like a lion, and ran his hand through his messy hair.

 

"What did we do last night that made us sleep so late?" Greg grumbled as Molly handed him his coffee. He nodded a thanks at her and took a sip of the hot liquid followed by a content sigh.

 

Molly smiled as she hugged her mug with her hands, savoring the warmth it provided, "I think we're getting old, Greg. Can't be staying up past ten anymore."

 

A soft chuckle escaped Greg's lips, "That's the truest thing I've heard all week. God, where do our youth go?"

 

"Mine went to med school," Molly said with a smirk. He smiled, "Mine went to my bloody ex-wife and the Yard. But heck, I'd take being old, it's working out pretty damn well for me."

 

"Oh yeah," Molly teased, "you silver fox." She winked at him and while he smiled, he didn't partake in the joke. She stopped smiling, wondering if she offended him but when he reached out for one of her hands, she knew it was ok. 

 

Molly put her mug down and let Greg's calloused fingers caress hers for a few moments. He finally spoke, "I mean it, Molls. I'm happy being old because I've got you."

 

A light blush spread over Molly's cheeks and she smiled kindly at the man. She considered what to say but found she didn't need to right away as he continued, "I can see myself building a future with you and I hope you do, too but I feel like you're not letting me apart of your life."

 

A frown was beginning to form on Molly's face as she knew what this was about. She really felt strongly for Greg but she was still so scared of introducing not just a man to her children, but someone who knew Sherlock to them. She realized though that a man more amazing than she could have asked for was holding her hand and she was blindly pushing him away.

 

Silence hung between the couple before Molly pulled Greg's hand to her and began to kiss his fingertips. He sighed contently but still looked expectantly at her. With a final kiss to his palm, Molly curled his hand into a fist but held it between her hands.

 

"Greg," Molly said softly, "let me take to Scarlett and Tommy and we can go from there."

 

Molly had no chance to react as Greg swooped her quickly in his arms and crushed his lips against hers. No words were said as she deepened the kiss and allowed him to carry her back to the bedroom.  
\-------------------------------  
"Do you think her birthday party is the wrong place for them to meet?" Molly nervously asked Mary as they set the party plates around the table. It was Scarlett's tenth birthday and Molly was a nervous wreck. Greg would be coming over soon enough and meeting her children for the first time.

 

Mary did her best to reassure her friend but nothing she said kept her from worrying. Molly finally asked, "Do you think I should have at least given him a heads up about Sherlock?" That was the one question Mary did not have the answer to but it was the one she most concerned about. She could only frown and hope for the best at this point.

 

The two women looked around the decorated flat, relieved to be finished. They snuck wine coolers from the fridge and indulged while they still could before the guests arrived. John and his sister, who was in town for the week, had taken the children out for the day in order to surprise Scarlett when they returned. 

 

There was a knock at the door and Molly sighed, "Well, that didn't last long."

 

Without looking through the peephole, Molly urges the door open, expecting it to be one of Scarlett's friends from school and their parents but instantly closed her eyes and groaned.

 

"Not today, please, Sherlock. I'm begging you," Molly pleaded with a frown. Mary quickly joined her at the door, "Sherlock, honey, not good."

 

Sherlock chewed on his top lip, looking past the two women as nothing in particular as he tried to remain composed. He sighed and held up a wrapped box, "I know she isn't here but I wanted to leave this for her."

 

Molly and Mary glanced at each other before Mary nudged her and she slowly accepted the present. Molly fought the urge to shake it and asked cautiously, "What is it?"

 

"A violin."

 

"Sherlock, who am I supposed to tell her it's from? She'll ask," Molly sighed, looking at the perfectly wrapped box. She had no doubt Mrs. Hudson was responsible for that. She looked at him and noticed how exhausted he looked. He was paler than she remembered him being even under the white lights at the morgue. Grey hairs curled with his black ones and there were fine wrinkles around his eyes and lips. His youthful appearance was slowly but surely disappearing.

 

Sherlock looked down at the present in Molly's hand, "As her mother, I will leave that entirely up to you."

 

Sherlock began to walk away but Molly called out to him, "She loves the skull, by the way. Thank you for that."

 

The detective looked back to her with a small smile, "No, Molly... Thank you."

 

He disappeared around the corner down the hallway, leaving Molly at a loss for words. Mary took the present from Molly's hands and went to place it on the table that already held their gifts for the ten year old. 

 

"John and I promised ourselves we'd never interfere with your relationship with Sherlock," Mary said as the shocked woman remained at the front door, staring down the hallway. She walked back to her and put her hands on her shoulders, squeezing them gently to offer her comfort, "I don't want to tell you what to do but he's suffering, Molly."

 

Molly turned her head to glance at Mary, "I've been suffering longer." Mary frowned and was about to hug her friend when she stepped beyond her reach and ran down the hallway.

 

"Sherlock!"

 

There was no response as Molly called out his name again. She ran down the stairs but didn't not come across the man she called for. Her heart was racing in her chest and she didn't care that she wasn't wearing shoes as she ran outside onto the sidewalk.

 

"Sherlock!" 

 

The detective was already at the intersection, ready to cross the street when he heard his name. Molly sprinted toward him as he turned around. Her short legs carried her swiftly and she tackled the man full force, wrapping her arms around him tightly. The impact caused him to stumble back a step but he had braced himself well enough to resist falling over.

 

"If you hurt her, I will kill you, Sherlock Holmes," Molly muttered against his chest, loud enough for only him to hear, and cried as his arms wrapped around her. 

 

Molly felt his lips on her head as he whispered, "Thank you, Molly Hooper."  
\----------------------------

Sherlock sat quietly in the corner of the room as the party progressed. Greg had showed up shortly after he returned to the flat with Molly. They were both surprised at each other's attendance but said nothing. 

 

"Got her a chemistry set, hope you don't mind," Greg said hesitantly as Molly added his gift to the table. She smiled warmly at him, "I'm sure she'll love it, actually."

 

Despite the other people in the room, Sherlock's eyes locked onto Scarlett as soon as she came in with John and Harry, as well as Peter, and who Sherlock figured was Scarlett's half-brother. The room was filled with cries of "Surprise!" and "Happy Birthday!" upon her arrival. She beamed knowingly at everyone and said, "I knew you'd try to surprise me!"

 

Sherlock couldn't help but beam proudly at his daughter. He revised her image in his mind, trying to fill in the gaps from the picture of her at three to her present age. She was more sociable than Molly had said a few years ago and for that he was most relieved. She was hugged by several friends and they chatted happily until her blue eyes met his.

 

Her jaw dropped in shock as she put the pieces together followed by a wide smile. The smile suddenly changed and he could see tears begin to storm from her eyes. Without warning, the child tackled her way through the room and even Sherlock wasn't prepared for the cry, "Daddy!"

 

All eyes were on them as the child sobbed in his chest, arms tightly wrapped around his neck. He found his arms instinctively wrapped around her and he closed his eyes, savoring the moment. 

 

When Sherlock finally opened his eyes, he felt a pang of guilt, something that had become quite common over the past decade. Greg was looking at Molly furiously, "Daddy?!"

 

The silver haired man stormed out of the flat, causing several people to look away from him and his daughter. Her cries quickly drained her of energy and she slowly pulled away from Sherlock and wiped at her running nose with her sleeve. He grabbed his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped at her cheeks and allowed her to blow her nose in it.

 

"I always knew you'd come, daddy," Scarlett said and hugged him again but with less power. She tilted her head up and kissed his cheek. Sherlock looked across the room to see Molly staring at him with tears in her eyes. He could tell she was torn in half. She wanted to chase after Greg but she knew she couldn't walk away from this. 

 

Wrapping his arms tightly around Scarlett, he picked her up. Her legs wrapped around his torso and Molly wiped her eyes roughly before walking over and directing him to her room. She closed the door behind her as she stepped in with them.

 

Sherlock placed Scarlett on her bed and she stared sleepily at him with a lazy grin plastered on her face. He smiled back before looking at Molly with a more serious face. He cradled her face and brushed tears away with his thumbs, "Go after him, Molly."

 

Molly shook her head, "And tell him what?"

 

"The truth. I think it's time we both stopped trying to hide it."  
\--------------------  
Over two months had passed since Scarlett's birthday and Molly found herself feeding Sherlock dinner nearly every night. He spent as much time with his daughter as he possibly could and was proving to be a good influence on her, despite what Molly had originally feared. He also was getting along incredibly well with Tommy who seemed to pick up on much of Scarlett's enthusiasm for knowledge as he followed her like a shadow.

 

Greg ignored every attempt that Molly made at contacting him. She tried pulling him aside one day at the morgue but he simply brushed her off and would only acknowledge her if it was about the body they had come to look at. As much as it hurt, she couldn't blame.

 

Molly was finishing up the salad for their dinner, smiling as Scarlett practiced her scales perfectly on the violin that Sherlock had gotten her and was teaching her how to play. Luckily, the screeching mistakes only lasted a day as she was a fast learner. 

 

"Keep practicing while I go talk to your mother," she heard Sherlock say. Molly looked from the counter to see him approaching her. She gave him a warm smile, "She sounds great in there."

 

The smile was not reciprocated as he asked, "Any progress in reconciling with Lestrade?"

 

He fully well knew the answer. Molly had gained three pounds and she didn't need the detective to tell her as her scale told her enough. As she thought about it, she remembered he had yet to say a cruel word to her despite all the time they were spending together.

 

Molly was resigning to the fact that she messed up and she didn't deserve Greg's forgiveness. She found herself crying, especially every other Saturday when her body realized it was missing his touch that it received during their regularly schedule date nights.

 

"He won't talk to me either. Refuses to give me any cases. I've been doing mindless private cases since the party."

 

Molly simply sighed. 

 

"How was I to know she would have known who I was without ever seeing me?!"

 

"Because she practically is you!" Molly snapped. She realized her outburst was uncalled for and quickly began to apologize. The detective stopped her with a hug and said, "I'm the one who is sorry. I shouldn't have come uninvited. I shouldn't have left you. I should have gotten on that train."

 

"What train?" Molly asked, rubbing her eyes. They were raw and puffy for crying so much. She was sure she'd run of tears but they always kept coming.

 

Sherlock sighed, "When I found out what I had done, I was about to board a train to see you and Scarlett but Mycroft talked me out of it."

 

"Ugh, Mycroft," Molly couldn't help but say as she remembered dealing with him on several occasions. She smiled when Sherlock informed her that he had broken his nose.

 

"I'm sure Tom would have tried to kill you had you shown up," Molly said though she didn't believe Tom would have even been able to lay a finger on the detective before being incapacitated by him.

 

"There's one thing I'm not sorry for," Sherlock finally said, his voice loud enough for only her to hear despite the children being in the living, "I'm not sorry for giving you her."

 

The words sent a shiver down her spine as she saw him stare deeply at her, "I'm not either."

 

"Mummy!"

 

The cry came following a crash and both Sherlock and Molly ran into the living room to the glass candy bowl Molly kept on a shelf laying in pieces. The beige carpet was stained red as Tommy screamed, clutching his arm out of instinct as blood seeped between his fingers.

 

Molly fought the urge to panic. With a deep sigh she asked Sherlock to stay with Scarlett and she quickly scooped up her son and was carried him from the flat. Luckily, she was within walking distance of St. Bart's, one of the reasons why she had picked the flat, and she found herself running down the street with the screaming child.

 

They were quickly admitted into the A&E and Molly held her son's hand as sat beside him in blood covered clothes while he received stitches to his arm. He remained calm after they numbed the wound and watched with curiosity as the needle passed painlessly through his skin.

 

They were finished and waiting for Tommy's discharge as he slept on his mother's lap while she laid on the hospital bed. She stroked his blonde hair softly and placed gentle kisses on his forehead as they waited. Her eyes began to close from sleepiness when...

 

"Molly?"

 

Her eyes shot open and she looked around panicked for a moment, careful not to startle her sleeping child. It took a moment for eyes to properly focus before she saw Greg standing before her. He looked concerned at her and paled when he saw her shift, showing her blood stained clothes.

 

"Christ, are you two ok?" Greg couldn't help but ask. She gave him a weak smile and nodded, "The little guy has a sweet tooth. He climbed on the shelf to get to the candy bowl and broke it. Had to get sixteen stitches in the arm."

 

Greg cringed at the story but asked, "So, this ones Tommy, right? Not... Sherlock's?"

 

Molly nodded, "This is Tom's son."

 

There was a moment of silence and Molly continued, "Greg, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you..."

 

"No, it's... fine. Better off this way, you know? Less messy."

 

"You don't mean that, do you?"

 

Greg looked so sad in that moment and Molly wished more than anything that she didn't have her son in her arms. She wanted to wrap her arms around the man so badly.

 

"No," He finally choked out and Molly let out a relieved sigh. 

 

Tommy began to shift and Molly's arms and they both watched as his eyes opened and he said, "Hi, mummy," with a sleepy smile.

 

Molly kissed his forehead, "Hi, baby, how do you feel?"

 

"I want to of go home."

 

Greg watched nervously and began to step back until Molly finally said, "We will, but first mummy wants you to meet someone very special. Can you say 'hi' to Greg."

 

Tommy lifted his head and looked directly as Greg with his tired eyes. They looked just like Molly's and he couldn't help but smile. 

 

"Hi, Greg," the young child said with a yawn and Greg stepped forward again, "Hi, Tommy. It's nice to meet you."

 

"Are you friends with mummy?"

 

Greg looked at Molly but she gave him no lead. He took another step forward and saw no hesitations from either Molly or her son. He stepped forward again and again until he sat on the edge of the bed near Molly's feet.

 

"I was very good friends with your mummy but I was very mean to her so I hope she'll forgive me."

 

Tommy looked at Greg, "Did you say you were sorry? Mummy always makes me say sorry when I'm mean to Scarlett."

 

Greg shook his head, "No, I didn't."

 

"What are you waiting for? Say sorry to mummy! And then kiss her or you'll get timeout like I did," Tommy exclaimed, coming out of his sleepy state. Molly was biting back laughter as Greg replied, "If you say so..."

 

Their eyes met and he took a deep breath, ready to apologize.

 

"Just skip to the part where you kiss me."

 

Greg stood up and quickly leaned into Molly, pressing his lips swiftly against hers when he heard, "Ew, not on the lips!"

 

Molly laughed against his lips before giving him a final quick peck and pulling back, "Apology accepted."

 

"Lestrade, you coming?" 

 

All eyes turned to the door to see Sally Donovan staring at them. Greg blushed and said, "Right, yeah, back to work."

 

Sally rolled her eyes but smirked as she walked away. She was more than relieved to see Greg and Molly working it out as she had to deal with his sour mood since discovering who Scarlett's father was.

 

Greg snuck one more quick kiss on Molly despite the child's protest and ruffled his hair as he went to work to question a patient that was just admitted. As he walked out, the nurse was coming in with Tommy's discharge papers to their relief. 

 

Sherlock couldn't help but note the smile on Molly's face as she returned home with Tommy. He knew those three pounds would be gone soon enough.

\----------------  
Scarlett smiled brightly as her father held her tightly. The flash went off and it made her rub her eyes as the photographer yelled, "Let's get one with the whole family!"

 

Molly and Greg stood in the center. They were surrounded by Scarlett, Tommy, Peter, John, Mary, and Sherlock. Greg's two children, Sara and Luke were also in the picture. Mrs. Hudson was pulled in by Molly, careful not to trip on the long skirt of her wedding gown. 

 

"Uh, are you guys all part of the family?" The balding photographer asked, rubbing his receding hairline uncomfortably. Greg called out, "It's an extended family."

 

"With an addition on the way!" Sherlock called out smugly. 

 

"Sherlock!" Greg and Molly screamed as the flash of the camera went off. 

 

John beamed happily at the photographer, "Be sure to save that one for the album!"


End file.
